


Lay Where You're Laying: I Know They're Watching

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Gravitation
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-05
Updated: 2009-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Kink Bingo 2009. Shuichi Shindou/Eiri Yuki. Title is from the song "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon</p>
    </blockquote>





	Lay Where You're Laying: I Know They're Watching

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo 2009. Shuichi Shindou/Eiri Yuki. Title is from the song "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon

For eighteen years, the only thing about his life that had ever made sense was music. And Shuichi was fine with that, because the only place he ever felt comfortable, like he knew who he was, was on stage. It fit. It worked. It was nice to be able to put things in perspective, because off-stage, he knew he could be a little bit... unconventional.

Unreliable, even.

He didn't mind, even when his mother gave him a horrified how-did-I-raise-my-only-son-to-be-such-an-idiot look, because there was always one place, one setting, in which everything was _perfect_. On stage, he wasn't a strange guy who freaked out in the middle of class, or a scatterbrained idiot who doodled song lyrics on the back of his history exam. Instead, he was Shindou Shuichi, performer. Rock Star. He was brilliant.

The lights would come on, the dull roar from the crowd (and there was always a crowd, these days, even though he used to have to imagine that there were people packed wall-to-wall, mumbling under their breath and desperate for the show to start, shoving gently and smoking up a storm) would fill his ears, and then he _transformed_.

It was something about the stage lights, the mic in his hand, and way his clothes would suddenly fit _just right_ , and Shuichi knew that he was amazing, he was fantastic, that the people in the crowd were there to see _him_ even if they didn't know it yet.

And they were going to _love_ him.

Walking off the stage was like coming down from a high (not that he'd ever done drugs, or ever would); the sudden dizzying rush when he stepped away, landing firmly backstage and back in the real world. Even then, with people clapping him on the back and congratulating him and telling him what a great concert it was, Shuichi knew that here, off the stage, he was still the guy everyone expected to fall flat on his face or embarrass himself at a fancy dinner party. And he was. That was totally fine, actually, especially because he would hate to see any of his friends in that situation. They didn't have his charisma, his natural charm, his ability to pick himself up and make the whole world want to give him a hug. And if part of that charm meant that he occasionally seemed like an idiot, it was a small price to pay.

Because onstage, he was always perfect.

-

Oh, right. The only other time he felt like that was when he was with Yuki.

Then, all of the rest of the world's problems would melt away. Even though Shuichi messed up all the time and often felt like he was going to cry with humiliation, Yuki would be there, like a knight in shining armor, mocking whoever was making Shuichi feel small and then reminding him that the rest of the world didn't matter.

And the rest of the world really didn't matter, when he was with Yuki.

-

"I have to go onstage in fifteen minutes!" Shuichi said, a little bit flustered. He was wearing one of his stage costumes, something bright red with too many belts and buckles, leather shiny against his skin.

Yuki raised an eyebrow, slipping a finger just inside Shuichi's first belt. "This thing could double as bondage gear," He said. "How do I get you _out_ of it?"

"Fifteen minutes!" Shuichi hissed, when Yuki started to stroke the side of his hip. "This is not funny, Yuki, I am not going onstage with -"

"What?" Yuki pressed closer, lips barely grazing the shell of Shuichi's ear. His hand slid down Shuichi's hip, stroking.

"You're going to get me all -- all --" Shuichi said, and then emphasized his point by moaning softly in Yuki's ear.

"It's not even a real performance," Yuki replied, scraping his teeth down smooth line of Shuichi's neck. "Hmm. I don't think I've ever seen you in hot-pants before."

"This is a perfectly respectable outfit to wear on stage!" Shuichi said defensively.

"It's the sluttiest thing you've ever put on," Yuki responded mildly, his hand sliding further down and caressing exposed skin on Shuichi's thigh, his fingers trailing back up underneath his shorts. "And now you're telling me I can't take it off of you. You're a tease, Shuichi."

"No..." Shuichi mumbled, closing his eyes. He was definitely blushing, now, and yet, he still hadn't told Yuki to _stop_.

"Maybe I should go find someone else, someone who isn't going to make me all hot and bothered and then leave me out to dry," Yuki suggested, pulling back.

" _Yuki!_ " Shuichi grabbed him by his suit jacket, pulling him back into a slow, wet kiss, tongue running over Yuki's upper lip and then thrusting into his mouth. It was the slow-building, lazy kind of that usually meant they could spend all day in bed, sweaty and disheveled and intense. Yuki kissed him back, letting Shuichi relax against him.

"Ten minutes!" Someone called behind them, and Yuki could feel Shuichi jerk back.

"No, no," Yuki said, because being backstage before performing for a hundred people - rehearsal or not - was no excuse for Shuichi to kiss him like that and not _mean_ it. He shoved the younger man against the wall, pinning him there with his weight, and kissed him again, hot and heavy, until Shuichi's arms were around him and he was moaning shamelessly into Yuki's mouth.

That was better, Yuki thought, and cupped Shuichi's erection through his shorts, kissing him soundly so he couldn't protest. "I hope this is okay," He said, mouthing down Shuichi's neck, biting at his skin. "Because if not, you should just tell me to stop."

" _Yuki_ ," Shuichi moaned, head thrown back, hips thrusting forward.

"Yeah," Yuki smiled. "I thought so," and shoved his thigh between Shuichi's legs, forcing them apart.

"People - can - _see us_ ," Shuichi said, his breath hitching as he wrapped an arm around Yuki's neck, dragging him closer.

And that was true, too, there were stagehands running past, lighting and sound crew standing around or in the rafters, and there was also a scary woman with a clipboard and thick plastic glasses who was supposed to keep the performers in line, as well. "They aren't looking," Yuki murmured against soft, sweat-dampened skin.

Shuichi shivered, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Well, a few of them are," Yuki amended, scary-glasses-woman approaching rapidly from the right. "But I don't really blame them... you look... " _Amazing_ , came to mind, and _sexy_ , but what Yuki really wanted to say was _lewd, obscene, beautiful_. Shuichi's cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed, he looked like he was about six seconds away from coming in his pants.

"N -- no--" Shuichi gasped, opening his eyes; his hips jerked forward. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes almost impossibly dark and sweet.

 _Really_ , Yuki thought. "Yes," he said. "They're watching us... and they know _exactly_ how you feel, they know exactly what I am doing do you --" to emphasize his point, he pulled at Shuichi's leg, hitching it up over his hip. Shuichi, the idiot, even _helped_ him, grinding upwards with a soft moan, his mouth falling open.

"Five minutes!" Scary Glasses Woman screeched at them, a slight flush on her cheeks when Yuki turned to look at her.

"I'm very sorry, Ma'am," he said, politely, dragging Shuichi a little bit higher on the wall so he could have a better angle. "But Mr. Shindou has recently become indisposed. I don't suppose you could - delay - his appearance on stage for a few minutes?"

She gaped at him.

Yuki kissed Shuichi's open mouth, licking his bottom lip and sucking gently on his tongue. Shuichi was pretty far gone, making soft gasping noises into Yuki's mouth. His fingers dug into Yuki's shoulders almost savagely.

"Four minutes," Scary Glasses Woman mumbled. Yuki broke the kiss to look at her, her moronic, embarrassed face, and almost felt bad. Almost.

"Mr. Shindou is indisposed." He growled. "He'll be on stage in fifteen minutes, not a second sooner, and I'm finished talking to you."

Yuki turned back to his shameless exhibitionist boyfriend and licked his collarbone, pushing aside the high collar of his stage costume, unbuckling the first of the unnecessary belts that were currently the only things protecting Shuichi's virtue. Scary Glasses Woman made a horrified noise, turning to leave; he ignored her in favour of working on the second buckle.

"Yuki," Shuichi gasped. "Oh my god, _Yuki_ , everyone can _see---_ " his voice rising up on the last word and breaking.

"You can always tell me to stop," Yuki advised him, sucking soft kisses onto Shuichi's neck as he started to work on the third buckle; it was absurd and _infuriating_ how many damned buckles were on this bloody thing.

In response, Shuichi hitched his leg up a little bit higher, wrapping it around Yuki's waist and thrusting forward. "Don't you _dare_ stop," Shuichi gasped, not quietly at all, dropping his hand to clutch at Yuki's wrinkled tie. " _Oh_ , Don't you dare-- ah, _Yuki..._ "

Finally, Yuki managed to get the bottom of the costume to loosen. He slid it down Shuichi's hips just enough that he had room to work, and then Yuki stroked his thumb over the the head of his cock, slippery with pre-come. "Quiet," he said, teasing, "Or I'm going to think you want everyone to watch."

Shuichi moaned, thrusting forward into Yuki's hand, fingernails digging into his shoulder. "I--" he started to say.

"I know," Yuki mumbled around the soft skin of Shuichi's earlobe. "You _like_ it, little pervert, knowing they're watching us."

"God--" Shuichi gasped, his cock slick and wet, sliding smoothly through Yuki's fist. "I -- _Yuki_ ,"

"You like knowing that they can all see you, half dressed and looking like a slut," Yuki continued, whispering in his ear. "They can all hear you, you know, moaning my name. If you begged me, they'd hear that too - and you _know_ how I like it when you _beg_ , darling."

"Please," Shuichi begged obediently, head thrown back, looking like a lot of things, all of which were divine, lovely, and pornographic. "Yuki, _please,_ I need -- I -- _oh god_ \--" so loudly that they were likely to get the attention of everyone backstage.

"Shh," Yuki whispered, biting down on Shuichi's ear very gently, hand twisting around his cock.

Shuichi made an exquisite, desperate noise and came, making a mess of Yuki's hand and his own stomach. "Oh," he mumbled against Yuki's hair, crumpling limpid and soft into his arms.

"You need to be on stage in thirty seconds," Yuki said helpfully, pulling out the handkerchief he had tucked in his back pocket. It was silk, and monogrammed, but it's loss would definitely not be felt, so he used it to wipe his hand and then Shuichi's stomach.

" _What_?" Shuichi shrieked.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure that woman with the clipboard is going to stall," Yuki waved a dismissive hand and looked for somewhere to discard the handkerchief other than his own pocket. "You probably ought to fix your costume before you go out, though," he suggested, rocking back on his heels.

"Um, Yuki--" Shuichi said, eyes wide as he fixed his costume, fingers scrabbling at the overabundance of buckles.

He was a pretty picture, with lividly bright bitemarks on his neck and collar, his hair a ghastly mess and sticking up in five directions, lips shiny and kiss-swollen, his cheeks still bright and his eyes so dark they looked all pupil.

If it was even _possible_ for Shuichi to look any more post-coital and debauched, Yuki would eat his metaphorical hat. "No. Get me after your performance," Yuki smirked. " _I'm_ not the one who really appreciates the audience."

-

  


  
   



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